


Look Away

by assignedswordatbirth, SD_oil



Series: Hunt/Slaughter Martin [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (Though it's not really plot relevant), Alternate Ending, Angst, Canon Asexual Character, Different Entity Alignments, Do Not Read If Looking For Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Jonny Sims Style Ending, M/M, No beta we die like archival assistants, Slaughter or Hunt Martin Blackwood, Spoilers up to MAG: 178, Technically Not NOT Canon As It Is A Valid Theory, The Fearpocalypse, We're sorry, rating is for violence and angst not anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assignedswordatbirth/pseuds/assignedswordatbirth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_oil/pseuds/SD_oil
Summary: “What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head?”“Hm? Oh. Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away.”“And you trust him to do that.”“Yes. I do”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Hunt/Slaughter Martin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943197
Comments: 19
Kudos: 62





	Look Away

**Author's Note:**

> This was in part inspired by @kinda.unsolved on tiktok! We were already discussing hunt/slaughter martin after 178, but in the light of their recent video series on it we knew we had to write it!

Nothing Changes.

When Martin looks at Jon, he feels warm. He’s not sure if that’s new or not, whether before it was drowned out by confusion and stress and hope. Whether he didn’t notice the warmth until after the lonely, after he’d escaped the icy, bone-chilling cold. He’s not sure that it matters. Jon is warm, and Martin loves him, more than anything.

Jon says he loves him back. Martin is almost starting to believe him. To believe the promises, the soft kisses, the protective rage he so often finds directed at those who threaten him. Martin has always told himself that people care about him, but this is maybe the first time he has felt loved.

Martin is loved and he is in love and that’s what matters, he tells himself, as he watches Jon listen to him, turn his powers against the other avatars. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. They’re not human. It’s okay to be comfortable with their deaths, to have to fight back a smile as he watches them die, because they’re not human. They’re not. 

(Jon holds him, after they leave the lonely, after Trevor. Jon holds him, and Martin has never known anything more perfect. Anything more human.)

They’re hunting Daisy, and Daisy isn’t human anymore, so it’s okay. They follow a trail of bodies, and they were innocent, they were human. They didn’t deserve to die. 

Jon tells them Daisy is happy, and Martin smiles, slightly. They’d have to kill her either way, he knows this, but at least this way - this way he knows it’s right. He can trust Jon. He knows he can. He can ignore that nagging fear that maybe, just maybe-

No. He can trust Jon. He can trust Jon to protect him, to tell the truth. Jon feels bad about it, is trying not to give in. Jon isn’t one of  _ them.  _

Jon smiles at him, concern in his eyes. 

“Are you alright, Martin? You’re rather quiet”

Martin nods, keeps walking. He’s fine. He’s not lonely anymore. He’s okay. 

They pass through another domain. Jon gives another statement. Martin apologises to corpses, and mourns over innocents and pretends not to be disappointed when they don’t hunt down and destroy whoever owns this factory of terror. He wants to make things better, that’s all. After all, it’s not murder. It’s not the same thing.

Martin pretends he doesn’t see himself in Basira, in her willingness to excuse, because Jon  _ isn’t  _ a monster. He’s against them, hunting them. It’s them versus the world, and Martin refuses to doubt that. 

It’s them versus the world, and Martin can’t help but feel a surge of rage against Daisy for making Jon afraid, emotion hot and tight in his chest like jealousy and fear and love and anger. 

They find Daisy. Find what’s left of her. Martin doesn’t want to use his friend’s name for this monster. 

He can see that Jon is afraid, see the tension in his jaw, see the indents his fingers are making in his arms, see his widened eyes. Jon looks like prey, and Martin hates it. 

Basira hesitates. Martin doesn’t. 

(Martin has always hated the sound of gunshots, hated the dark red of blood. He has always hated the reality of death. The idea, the concept, is fine until there is a dead body on the ground, too still, too empty)

Martin looks at the lifeless body and doesn’t react, as red stains the ground, stains her clothes. Basira lets out a sob from behind him, but he doesn’t know why. 

This wasn’t Daisy, with her razor sharp smile and wolf like eyes. This was the monster that had taken her. Surely Basira should be happy, should be grateful that her partner was revenged.

Martin turns away as Basira drops to her knees beside the corpse. He turns to Jon, pulls him into a hug, ignores the way Jon is stiff in his arms. It’s shock, that’s all. Jon was always afraid of Daisy. 

Martin knows that Jon isn’t a monster. Knows that a monster wouldn’t hold him so gently. Knows that a monster wouldn’t help somebody they feared. Knows that a monster wouldn’t freeze in shock and terror, wouldn’t hesitate to kill somebody for  _ his _ benefit, or because they were a child, or to uphold a long-held debt.

Martin knows Basira isn’t a monster. Knows that a monster wouldn’t cry over the corpse of what was no longer an old friend, knows that a monster wouldn’t have hesitated before pulling the trigger. 

Martin knows that he isn’t a monster either. He’d escaped the lonely, he’d got away. If he was a monster, he couldn’t feel so completely, so all consumingly in love.

Basira snaps a while later. Martin doesn’t know how long it’s been, how quickly time passes here, but one day they’re talking, voices soft, and the next she’s at his throat, teeth bared. 

He can hear the panic in Jon’s voice as he starts to speak, undercut by the heavy gravity of his powers, but Martin gets there first. He isn’t sure where he got the knife, but Basira’s blood stains his hands as he jumps back. 

He wonders, dimly, why he isn’t panicking. It must be the shock, he supposes, as Jon flusters around him, checking he’s alright, wrapping him in a hug. 

“I was so worried” he repeats, over, and over, and over, and Martin just rests his chin on the top of Jon’s head, and wonders what’s changed so much that he isn’t crying. 

He was wrong about Basira, he knows that now. He isn’t sure when it changed but Jon  _ is  _ human. He knows that. He has to be. It doesn’t hurt to check, though, so he starts holding things back, dropping little lies to see if Jon notices. 

He doesn’t, and that's good. That means he isn’t Knowing things, isn’t using his powers against Martin. It means he hasn’t changed. 

It feels better now that Basira is gone, much as he hates to admit it. Just he and Jon, making their way through the apocalypse towards the Panopticon. Towards Elias. Towards the end. 

Jon listens more now that they’re alone, is willing to smite quicker, takes less convincing, and Martin would be concerned if it wasn’t better, if it wasn’t for the greater good. Jon’s motives are wrong, he knows that. He knows he’s doing it to protect him, so nobody gets as close as Basira had, but the outcome is the same and of that, Martin is glad. 

They hold hands as they enter the panopticon, as they face Jonah. They’re aware this could be the end of them, too. That this could be the last time they ever see each other. The last moments of both of their lives. Jon cradles his face as he kisses him goodbye, and Martin kisses back, desperation and fear and hunger. 

Martin takes his eyes, and it’s easier than he thought possible, hands bloody, knife embedded in the chest of a man who whimpers as he bleeds out, finally human once more. 

He pretends to care, to feel bad, as Jon destroys the eyes and the corpse goes limp, but they are still - miraculously - alive, and when Martin kisses him again, it’s with relief, and joy, and that same, visceral hunger. 

Nothing changes. The world is still ending. 

Jon tells him what needs to be done and Martin pretends he didn’t already know as he protests, pleads. They can stay there, in the panopticon, ruling from on high. They can travel the domains, destroying the avatars, trying to find a way to set people free.

They can find another solution. 

Jon agrees, reluctantly, to give it a little while. To see if anything changes. They both know it won’t. 

Jon’s smiles become rarer, more forced, as Martin’s become more common. They are safe up here, and while he yearns to leave, to make a difference, to try and help, he knows, deep down, that up here, they are safer. Jon is safer. That’s what’s important. 

“Martin-”

“No, Jon. I won’t hurt you. We will find a way”

“But-” 

“No.”

It is an unknown amount of time later that Jon betrays him. He comes to him in the middle of the day and his face is apologetic and Martin thinks he knows what to expect but he really, really doesn’t.

“Martin, you need to let this go”

“I love you”

“I know” 

He doesn’t tell him he loves him too. He doesn’t need to. Martin already knows. 

“Martin, I-”   
  


“I’m not going to kill you, Jon. It’s- there’s another way. There has to be.”

“You don’t care if that’s true, Martin. You would put me above the rest of the world and I can’t let you do that”

“That’s not true-”

“Martin. I understand, but”

“You’re wrong-”

Jon lets out a sigh, and Martin knows what he’s going to say moments before he does. 

“Martin, I’m sorry. I looked.”

Martin looks at the man in front of him, and no longer sees Jon.

“I told you - unless you’re in danger, and you were. You’re not-you’re not you anymore, Martin, but we can fix this, we can-”

Jon was human. He was the only other one left. The only other human. It was he and Jon against a world of monsters and it was enough. It’s not anymore. 

In front of him stands a monster. Yet another avatar. So willing to smite down those he faces. So willing to use his powers, even when Martin had a knife that would work just as well. 

Martin watches the monster who wears his boyfriend’s face and is calm. He sizes him up, knows exactly how quickly he can move, and then, he lunges. It’s a risk, he could be smited in a heartbeat, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

The monster doesn’t move. Its eyes are sad and afraid but Martin will not be manipulated. He is the last one left. The last uncorrupted person, and he will not let something control him with the eyes he fell in love with. 

He pins the thing on the ground, face twisted in rage. His knife is nearby, always on hand, but he doesn’t need it. His fists work just as well. 

The thing is begging, pleading with him, and Martin almost laughs at the cowardice. Doesn’t even have the guts to smite him when he’s not egging it on. 

“Martin, please. Please, it’s me. I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. Martin, look at me. Martin, please. It’s me, it’s Jon. I love you. Martin, I love you. Your name is Martin Blackwood and you- and you are loved. Martin don’t do this. Marti-”

“Monster” Martin cuts him off with a snarl. There’s none of Jon left, just his eyes staring out from a too-familiar face. 

“Martin, it’s me, it’s me, look at me. Martin look at me, it’s Jon, it’s me. Martin, look at me. Look at me look at me  _ look at me _ . Please. Martin, Martin, recognise me.  _ Martin _ -” 

It pleads and pleads until Martin’s fist catches its throat and all it can do is gasp. 

Martin’s own breathing is calm, even as his fists fly, over and over and over. Violent, yet no longer angry. It is a job, and he will finish it. He has to protect people, protect the world from monsters like the one in front of him. The moment the thing stills under him, he stops. Checks the pulse, the breathing. Steps back. Wipes his bloody hands on his jeans. Realises.

(Martin has always hated the sound of gunshots, hated the dark red of blood. He has always hated the reality of death. The idea, the concept, is fine until there is a dead body on the ground, too still, too empty)

There is silence, but for sobbing, distant as the faraway screams. It’s his, he knows this, but it doesn’t feel like it. He looks at the body on the ground in front of him. Looks at Jon, bloodied, and barely recognisable, and scrambles for his pulse to check again, and again, and again, but he already knows what he’ll find. 

“Jon-” his voice cracks, hoarse from yelling, though he barely remembers making a sound. “Jon, I’m-Jon, I’m looking-I’m Jon, I'm sorry. I’m -Jon, I’m-I-I see you. I love you. Jon-”

There is no response, nothing but the sounds of faraway fear, and he crumples to his knees again, shaking the corpse with sobs of desperation. 

“I’m so sorry. Jon, I’m so sorry.”

(Martin holds him, as his sobs become dry, after his body goes cold, and stiff. Martin holds him, and he has never known anything more painful. Anything more human.)

On the first and last and only day of the rest of the end of the world, Martin breaks. 

And he is himself.

And nothing changes.

**Author's Note:**

> we're sorry

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Look Away by assignedswordatbirth, SD_oil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26514040) by [quiet_nikai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_nikai/pseuds/quiet_nikai)




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